Why was Napoleon Usually Painted with A Hand in His Coat?

No, he didn’t have a stomach ulcer, or breast cancer, or a deformed hand, as some have theorized. Just like low-slung jeans and pet rocks, posing with one hand hidden was a fad that was considered a symbol of good breeding.

In his essay "Re-Dressing Classical Statuary: The Eighteenth-Century 'Hand-in-Waistcoat' Portrait," Arline Meyer notes that the pose dates back to Ancient Greece, when the hand-tucked-into-the-tunic stance was the recommended pose for orators. The post was used with "relentless frequency in England in the 18th century," Meyers writes, so much that the pose became a cliché—some portrait artists were actually accused of using it because they didn’t know how to paint hands.

But, Meyer says, "in real life, the 'hand-held-in' was a common stance for men of breeding." In 1738, Francois Nivelon, the Mr. Manners of that era, wrote in his book A Book Of Genteel Behavior that the hand-inside-vest pose signified “manly boldness tempered with modesty.”

Today, the "hand-in" pose is associated with Napoleon, thanks in part to Jacques-Louis David's 1812 painting, Napoleon in His Study (which Napoleon didn't sit for, but was commissioned for a Scottish nobleman)—what Meyers calls the gesture's "personalized revival in the nineteenth century":

It is not surprising that when Napoleon's reputation plummeted, a subtly arched postural inflection made the gesture decidedly imperious... The enduring French association is in fact somewhat ironic, in that the gesture had a voguish run as an English portrait convention long before it became Napoleon's quasi-military emblem.

A plate of Chinese takeout with egg rolls and duck sauce

iStock

We know that our favorite Chinese takeout is not really authentically Chinese, but more of an Americanized series of menu options very loosely derived from overseas inspiration. (Chinese citizens probably wouldn’t recognize chop suey or orange-glazed chicken, and fortune cookies are of Japanese origin.) It would also be unusual for "real" Chinese meals to be accompanied by a generous amount of sauce packets.

Here in the U.S., these condiments are a staple of Chinese takeout. But one in particular—“duck sauce”—doesn’t really offer a lot of information about itself. What exactly is it that we’re pouring over our egg rolls?

Smithsonian.com conducted a sauce-related investigation and made an interesting discovery, particularly if you’re not prone to sampling Chinese takeout when traveling cross-country. On the East Coast, duck sauce is similar to sweet-and-sour sauce, only fruitier; in New England, it’s brown, chunky, and served on tables; and on the West Coast, it’s almost unheard of.

While the name can describe different sauces, associating it with duck probably stems from the fact that the popular Chinese dish Peking duck is typically served with a soybean-based sauce. When dishes began to be imported to the States, the Americanization of the food involved creating a sweeter alternative using apricots that was dubbed duck sauce. (In New England, using applesauce and molasses was more common.)

But why isn’t it easily found on the West Coast? Many sauce companies are based in New York and were in operation after Chinese food had already gained a foothold in California. Attempts to expand didn’t go well, and so Chinese food aficionados will experience slightly different tastes depending on their geography. But regardless of where they are, or whether they're using the condiment as a dipping sauce for their egg rolls or a dressing for their duck, diners can rest assured that no ducks were harmed in the making of their duck sauce.

A total solar eclipse will cut a path of totality across the United States on August 21, and eclipse mania is gripping the country. Should the wide-eyed and unprotected hazard a peek at this rare phenomenon?

NASA doesn't advise it. The truth is, a quick glance at a solar eclipse won't leave you blind. But you're not doing your peepers any favors. As NASA explains, even when 99 percent of the sun's surface is covered, the 1 percent that sneaks out around the edges is enough to damage the rod and cone cells in your retinas. As this light and radiation flood into the eye, the retina becomes trapped in a sort of solar cooker that scorches its tissue. And because your retinas don't have any pain receptors, your eyes have no way of warning you to stop.

The good news for astronomy enthusiasts is that there are ways to safely view a solar eclipse. A pair of NASA-approved eclipse glasses will block the retina-frying rays, but sunglasses or any other kind of smoked lenses cannot. (The editors at MrEclipse.com, an eclipse watchers' fan site, put shades in the "eye suicide" category.) NASA also suggests watching the eclipse indirectly through a pinhole projector, or through binoculars or a telescope fitted with special solar filters.

While it's safe to take a quick, unfiltered peek at the sun in the brief totality of a total solar eclipse, doing so during the partial phases—when the Moon is not completely covering the Sun—is much riskier.

WOULDN'T IT BE EASIER TO JUST TELL YOUR KIDS THEY WILL GO BLIND?

"A student who heeds warnings from teachers and other authorities not to view the eclipse because of the danger to vision, and learns later that other students did see it safely, may feel cheated out of the experience. Having now learned that the authority figure was wrong on one occasion, how is this student going to react when other health-related advice about drugs, alcohol, AIDS, or smoking is given[?]"